


Understand

by c0nstruct_out_of_reach



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Back to Hell, Brotherly Affection, Donnie being dumb, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Feral Behavior, I hope, M/M, On Hiatus, Oops, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Rated for violence and everyone's mouth, Relationship may be established but there's still a lot to develop, Rewrite, free use of italics and em dashes, i guess i should say super mutant Don since it is kinda confusing, i think im not sure, im really bad at tagging, just because i'm a bad writer, nothing wild, oh god i just realized i forgot to tag donnie and mikey as characters??, so yeah super mutants and all, this time drafted, yeahh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-04-30 12:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0nstruct_out_of_reach/pseuds/c0nstruct_out_of_reach
Summary: The wind blew sharp, slicing the air with freezing claws. It was colder; much colder than earlier, when everything hadn't seemed so awful. Leo's legs felt like lead as he stood at the doors, worrying at his lip. It would be a chore returning home in this weather, no doubt. It would be tiring and tedious, they'd be at high risk, they'd be extremely visible--A trill sounded behind them, and Leo turned to view his little brother hunched in the hallway frame, his eyes reflecting green in the strip of light.~~(rewritten version)(on hold until i can stop screaming about connor and robojesus and his blond boyfriend so much)





	1. It Has Teeth of Ice

**Author's Note:**

> im back yall  
> i wanted to rewrite this because... i'm still interested in the idea, but the older specimen is really unplanned and... bad. i wanted to try again.  
> also!! thanks to good old Gogreendreamer123 (a+ username) on deviantart for dealing with me and being my beta reader. 
> 
> i cant promise this is good, but i can promise its probably better than the other.
> 
> updated infrequently, but it's drafted and everything. it's just a matter of motivation and time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp here we go yall
> 
> /// August 27, 2018 ///  
> right now, I'm working on an original project, and now I'm forcing myself to work on this. It's not fun when I'm forcing myself to pull up the doc. I'll still mean to work on this, but updates should be slower than ever. I don't want to give up just yet. 
> 
> Thank you.

He didn’t understand.

His vision was a spiraling mess of colors; black and turquoise, black and red. Red, red, red; red like fire, greedily devouring him and setting him alight. It was on him, _under_ him, his muscles magma—everything inside was magma. Bubbling and burning and sizzling in his ears, and he couldn’t hear his scream even though it tore his throat to shreds.

He tried to fight it, to fight the invisible enemy, but he only saw swirling blackness when his eyes forced open. Immediately, he was struck with vertigo, and he felt himself faltering and wavering and now lurching. Fiercely, he tried to shake it off, to persist, to _attack_ , but his limbs just buckled and sent him crashing. Fear, sharp and icy, shot through him before his jaw smashed almost promptly into something hard. He… he had expected to tumble into the darkness… and he definitely hadn’t anticipated his teeth meeting his tongue in his mouth.

He laid there for a few moments, his breath coming in quick huffs. Everything, every knot in his body, was unwinding and bursting to life. His hearing popped. His vision was wrought with blurs of the real world. The taste of iron permeated his tongue, wet and rank.

He clenched his eyes tight, curling in his claws as he fought with himself to move. Every heavy muscle screamed complaints, and he couldn’t argue with them, so he just let his head fall. But reason yelled in the back of his mind, and slowly, carefully, he tried to ease himself up. Forelimbs and torso first, then his abdomen and rear legs. They didn’t fail him again, but they whimpered objections feebly. He shook his angry head softly, letting out the slightest wheeze. He only then noticed the wet dribbling steadily from his chin; the rest of the _wet_ just otherwise congesting his mouth and filling it with an overwhelming metallic tang. He unnaturally manipulated his mouth enough to spit the worst out. His face was left dully aching, but, glancing down, he froze. His pains quickly transformed into the least of his worries.

At his feet was a turquoise ooze, glowing with the faintest life. A daring whuff proved it to be awful stuff that burned and stung the inside of his nostrils and disturbed something profound that he couldn't comprehend. His body screeched to get away, and he _tried_ , but everything just gave out, and then he was kneeling.

He thought he heard something: a quiet, unintelligible murmur, a hesitant whisper. _Something_. But the idea slipped from his mind as pain jolted up his neck from trying to look. He only gritted his teeth, a whimper clawing up his throat and out his mouth.

He had to get out of here. This _place_ had already shown itself to be dreadful and dangerous. He could get himself out and then figure everything else out later. He wasn’t safe with this ooze and the ghosts of pain and the _whispers_ —it was still going and getting louder too. He managed a growl, and something whimpered and _moved_. He dug his claws into the hard surface and shoved himself forward, right back to and over the turquoise ooze. His limbs actually worked, for once in this existence; they didn’t buckle or give out or just _fail_. He whirled around, teeth bared, grumbling furiously and—

The noise sputtered with shock. Three green creatures, one uncomfortably close, with hard plates and colorful eye markings. The closest one had big eyes, wide, and it was breathing heavily with its paws to its chest. It swallowed thickly, and then backed up, murmuring. The Whisperer. The two behind it were approaching… Wait, no, no, _no_ , one had _weapons_. Silvery and sharp and clutched in its paws and it was getting closer to him. Immediately, he snarled and snapped, but they only paused before resuming.

Panic burned in his chest as he growled and stumbled back. He shot his gaze around the room rapidly, panting and huffing too with the exertion.  To his great terror, the only exit was behind the threats.

But… he was bigger. He squared down, tensed. Maybe one had its sharp things out, but he was stronger and bigger and… scarier, right? Whisperer, the orange one, was scared, wasn’t it? He experimentally leaped forward and snarled, and they careened away. _Yes!_

He stepped back, wheezing regardless. Everything smarted with biting pain and ached, and the creatures might have noticed his attention on the exit, so he’d have to be just right. They were shifting toward it, to block it more. They didn’t stop when he grumbled either.

He had to go now, _now_ , before they got too close and dangerous with their weapons. He saw them all now; on the ground, around twos’ waist at this point. He crouched, growled, and the creatures that might be monster turtles started to look at each other and communicate. Or, at least, what he absently assumed to be communication as he surged forward.

They squawked and moved toward him, but his eyes were dead-set on the exit. He could make it; he _was_ making it—he was almost _there_ —

Weight landed on his shoulders, pressure struck his neck, and he tumbled with a furious bay. His cheek hit the ground hard. The world spun and heaved as the weight distantly yelled. More yelling, less whirling, and he could feel other paws clamping down on him. He opened his mouth to scream, but claws slammed down on his snout. He tried to thrash, but they had an expert handle on him, and he was still weak, and he _couldn't move_.

With the wave of panic, he slipped his head free and snapped blindly; he heard a yelp and tasted fresh iron on his tongue. The touch retracted, if only for a moment. Quickly, he tried to rush forward, but arms closed around his neck and pushed him down. No amount of attempting to flail did him any good anymore. No squirming, no roaring; it was futile now, and his breaths were turning into harsh gasps. His limbs burned, ached, were so heavy; his head too. His vision blurred, and his head dropped without his consent.

He had lost.

He bared his teeth and tensed, anticipating the worst. The monsters with sharp weapons and claws had caught him. He was completely at their mercy. He'd lost his chance, and he would die here before he even figured out where “here” was. Blue had its elongated, silvery talon at his neck; he knew it. It was just waiting for him to completely yield.

_Well, I_ won’t. Growling, he abruptly lashed out, heaving himself against them again. But he had little strength remaining, and what dregs he had pooled together were nothing under the monsters. His neck succumbed again, and he had his cheek pressed against the stony ground, glaring Whisperer in the eye. It had the audacity to _smile_ , and when he snarled through everything, it made a tight-mouthed hiss, soft and quiet, and it still bore the grin. He curled his lip, gasped for air, and then showed it what a real hiss was.

It blinked and brought its head back with its grin absent. Something glinted in its eyes, then shimmered, but then it was smiling again and trailing one paw up and down his arm, the other lodged under the same limb and keeping him trapped. He huffed and could only find any more strength to reel in his breathing. Only a growl was mustered when one of the monsters touched his head lightly.

He still waited in apprehension for the long claw, but the monsters were just touching his neck and head and arm lightly and making more of those muted hisses. He forced his head back to see Blue’s weapon wasn't actually directed at him at all… he couldn't even see it. Blue quirked its lip too at his attention, and he didn't know what to do.

They just continued talking and touching him— _petting_ him. He couldn't grasp why, but his body hurt, and he couldn't do anything about it. They weren't too rough now, even if they still kept him practically immobile. But he felt the arms around his neck loosening, the paw locking his shoulders lightening, the icicle on his spine melting.  Instinctively, he shifted, and it all crashed back with heightened whispering and patting.

He heaved a whimper as he sharply tugged his head free. The momentum toppled him back and all the turtles off him, and he landed on his side with a wheeze. They called out and scrambled for him, reaching out with their paws—and he flattened himself to the ground and whined, staring with the most pathetic look he could muster. The monsters had proven their dominance long ago. He just wanted them to depart and leave him alone and stop touching him now. _Is it that hard_? he thought as they still came closer, albeit slower, more quietly, but just as open-armed. He grimaced as he pressed his sore cheek to the ground and rolled uncomfortably to his side in one last desperate attempt to make them _go away_.

“Donnie?”

He froze, eyes snapping open. They persisted talking, but he remained fixed. That word… that word meant something. Meant _a lot_. The way it was said, so heartily. The way it affected him. He couldn’t understand a bit of it, the word nor the concept. So… why was it so important?  

A turtle with red markings, Red, was holding a paw out. He blinked out of it and painfully brought his head over to brush it; to see what it meant to it and to him, to try to answer his question.

Promptly, it— it? he? he—smelled of salt and sweat, and Donnie wrinkled his nose and pulled back. He saw him now, green eyes bright, the slightest smile, a “Donnie?” on his lips. He couldn't make heads-or-tails of it, but it had to be important—big, sentimental, _something_.

But he couldn't understand it.

Red's eyes dropped too, and he pulled away. They were glossy now, and he hid his face in his paws. He observed quietly, discomfort pulsing in his mind until Whisperer put one paw on Red's shoulder and extended the other out to him. He blinked at it and reluctantly nudged it. He scrunched his face up again because, _ugh_ , these turtles didn't smell the best, but his heart stuttered at the thought of disappointing them. Again. He already had with Red for… some reason. He gazed at Whisperer quickly, biting his tongue, but he seemed fine; eyes maybe not as bright, but he was smiling, and his mind continued to tell him that was good. So he dared a glance at Red. He jumped to see the metallic claws out and even more to see him trying to strangle them with a bloody paw.

Blue spoke something directed at Red, his(?) voice smooth and quiet, from what he could tell. Red glowered for a long time while Whisperer patted his neck (he didn't know why he never noticed it, but it was too late to stop Whisperer now) before he grunted and put the claws in a… He narrowed his eyes. It was brown; he could tell that much, but a lot else was beyond him. Markings you can put items in? He shook his head with a disbelieving snort.

It was Blue's turn to reach out a paw. He expected it, was ready and prepared for his own flavor, but Blue didn't go through. Not properly. Blue was tapping his shoulder and pointing up, and everyone else had at some point stood. He saw Red was looking away, and Whisperer was with him.

Blue poked him hard suddenly, and he curled his lip. Blue may think he had dominance, but he'd get him back and prove himself better when he didn't hurt so much. He glanced at him as he made odd gestures with his paws. Interest pushed him up despite all his screaming muscles.

Blue smiled, reaching out a paw for his shoulder, but as he kept a wary eye on it, Blue seemed to think better of it and just started to walk backward. He still made those motions—those annoyingly prompting and _confusing_ motions. He couldn't quite tell what it meant, but when he hobbled forward, Whisperer next to Blue beamed and nodded.

He remained still even as they intensified the movements. He didn't even know who these turtles were, who he was, what even _happened_ … so why should he follow them? Was that even what they wanted?

He blinked sluggishly and supposed he hadn't a clue of anywhere else to go. He'd detect suspicious trouble too. Maybe they'd bring him to a nice place to sleep. Or a place with food or water; Whisperer smelled a lot like food, even if it wasn’t necessarily good. He licked his lips and trotted forward. That sounded amazing still.

After a few moments of it, he realized the turtles were leading him to the exit they only recently barred him from. Intrigue opened his eyes wider, pushed his legs farther. They had acted like they didn't want him to go out, and now they were leading him there; rather eagerly too. He felt compelled to follow by curiosity, if not by the sheer instinctual, blind trust that made his gut churn. It wasn't right…

But they weren't hurting him anymore and only looked… _nice_. In that instant, he was hit with regret as he paused in the tunnel entrance. He should've proceeded and smelled them better, no matter their immediate taste.

As he stared down the long path, he resolved to begin being more thorough by investigating the space before just padding obliviously. It was… rank with a tinge of sting as he lifted his nose. But that was brought in by drafts through the opening he spotted at the end. More snuffing the floor, and he decided it was fine enough. The turtles stood, coaxing him, so it seemed. He trilled uncertainly before submitting.

They were turning around now as though they trusted him to continue trailing after them, but they were still glancing back. Whisperer and Red most commonly, he noted.

The frosty sting was getting sharper, and the turtles were getting slower and now talking. They glanced back at him more in their brief dialogue before Whisperer came near. Whisperer patted his arm and smiled, directing one of his weird strings of foreign language at him, but he didn't understand, and he found it difficult to care. Whisperer lingered like that longer, grin fading again. He took the time to shuffle closer and push his nose close to his neck to break the unpleasant silence. Whisperer stiffened under him, a paw on his neck, “Donnie?” ghosting past his ear. Whisperer was quiet for another beat as he attempted to comprehend all the information he'd disinterred, but then limbs looped around his neck and a head pressed against his chest suddenly and with force. He jerked back with a startled puff, braced to defend. But Whisperer just nuzzled closer. Wet. His face was wet.

He didn't know why it was wet.

A low whine built in his throat as he did the only thing some distant instinct in the back of his mind told him; fondle back.

He jumped when Blue joined, cheek to his leg. But he was ready when Red did at last. A loose grip, eyes set on a far wall. He glanced over, but he didn't see anything of interest. Red must've had advanced sight to see something he failed to.

Never mind that. They were all on them. All these touchy strangers with their unnatural shiny claws, their tangible markings, some kind of _familial_ scent he'd only now perceived, their curious masks… Were they like pouches too? He leaned forward and nosed a slightly trembling Red— he couldn't tell if the masks were scales by the brief examination, but he knew Red was cold, so he pressed himself closer. They were all shaking and cold, he noticed, and… he was too. Did they mean to bring him out _there_ in the freezing cold? Wherever they wanted to go better be near.

Blue pulled away, paws on the other two. He spoke as he looked up at him, his eyes twinkling with something. He didn't know a sliver of what he said, except for Donnie. That haunting word that always came up and that he _knew_ in his heart.

But he didn't know in his head. That was probably more important.

He tried to shake away the achiness in his body as Blue and Whisperer called to him and moved back again. His steps were more even than he anticipated. He made it to the entrance with relative ease. It had two big silvery flaps, slightly ajar. He inched closer, sticking his nose closer as he wondered how they'd get through—until Whisperer nudged it wider.

Immediately, he was struck with sharp, frigid wind that bit his skin and stung his eyes and he _had_ to jump back. The zephyr carried alien sensations: Smoke, pollution, something sickeningly cloying, blaring, awful sounds. And they were actually encouraging him out into the field of... _not-okay_. They were outside in it, and he was tempted to rush out and pull them back inside. But they were scooting back toward a stone wall and talking and—they were gone?

He was puzzled only a moment before panicked. Whuffing desperately, he pushed himself forward and boldly stuck his nose out the entrance first, and then his head. The sounds and scents were even acuter; he couldn't decipher Whisperer's most familiar scent among it all. His heart stuttered until someone clicked over all the noises. He brought his gaze up, and they were waiting on a similarly stony-looking top.

Relief was a pleasant tide. He gazed for another beat before he wiggled his shoulders through. Then his back, then his haunches with some difficulty. But he got it with a heave and a blizzard of dust, plus more stinging eyes and a personal meeting with the rough ground. With the cold and encroaching fatigue and reignited pain, he was keen on lying there for a bit longer until someone called him again. He puffed but complied, picking himself up. Tipping his head up, the turtles were patting the edge pretty enthusiastically; Whisperer and Blue anyway. What did they _want_ from him though? Did they want him to jump up there? He could… probably do that.  

He released another puff, took a deep breath, and he was preparing himself to jump. They moved back, and he leaped.

The bizarre stone shattered and crumbled upon his landing. He swayed with the abrupt unbalance, but he stuck his tail out and managed to capture a secure perch. He glanced at the shards and fragments curiously and was nudging a pair until one turtle gave one of those hisses. His attention snapped back up. Whisperer had outstretched eyes on him and a digit to his lips while Blue’s and Red’s heads flew around. He quirked his lip up and chuffed, but Whisperer shushed once more. He still didn't know what it meant exactly, so he lowered his head to rumble a question. Red suddenly and swiftly had paws clamping his jaws closed, hushing, and he, at last, got the idea.

Red still had his snout as he urged him forward and over the top, right to an opening in the precise cliffs. He thrust a digit down, whispering tons, and he sniffed the finger briefly before following the direction of it. He looked at Red for confirmation, stared for a few seconds, and then slipped down.

The room to maneuver was scant, and his muzzle was scathed by the wall as he tried to turn. It stung while he crouched, whimpering. He glanced up, searching for those turtles, but then suddenly they were at his feet and gazing away long and hard, patting him absently and making the “shhhh.” He tried to quash the sound for them.

The reason for hiding was beyond him. He could only assume all the other living creatures he heard over the auditory overload were dangerous, but he thought the same about these turtles too. But they were scared too; it was an acrid smell that was worse than everything. With the thought, his claws unsheathed fully, ivory glinting in the artificial lights everywhere.

He felt like they'd been down there for an interminable length of time before Blue _finally_ moved from the tensed position. Everyone did too with sighs, but he could hardly stretch.

He watched as they scaled the side adeptly, leaving him again alone. They patted again with more gentle encouragement, but he struggled to turn. There was no way he could jump.

He angled his head up and whined. They whispered and furrowed their eyes but did nothing more than tap and click. He sat forlornly and fidgeted. What could he do?

He paused. He could… yeah, maybe. Cautiously he rose up and reared back on his hind limbs. His claws just barely clicked on the edge. He braced a bit, then heaved. Scrabbling, he but slid back down. It was the closest he'd gotten, so he kept trying. It took four more attempts, and he didn't pick himself up afterward. The turtles, after a second or two, fell down by him.

He brought his head over and extended it to Red. He'd never gotten a really good sniff of him. Red was stiff but allowed it. He still was a lot of salt and sweat, but he had that tang too; the warm, fuzzy one that called “home” to him. He didn't know where that was.

It was Blue's turn for real. It was actually already offered, and he just accepted. He noted Blue smelled much nicer, crisp and herbal. It was intermixed with more of the familiar salt, but definitely the Home. They all shared something that made his chest warm. He pondered it a long while, even after they forced him up and onward.

 

 

He was limping after his brothers (it was what he concluded since he didn't know what else to assume) by the time they had him run through a large opening and down into some awful tunnels. They were hot, dank, dark, foul. The deeper into the bowels they went, the wider the channel of sludge grew—whatever that was, he didn't trust it. It was a pain with his shakiness and roughed pads to avoid. The turtles trudged right through it. He could see they were much more at ease under the bustling Above. They walked without fear, without hesitance. He tried to mimic them.

Much to his relief, his brothers took a turn into another tunnel that looked to be clear. The passage was a tight fit, much to his distaste. He'd almost gotten himself stuck multiple times, but he triumphed.

They walked him more, a lot more, past trenches with rails and metal and unnervingly large spaces. The tunnels were opening up still as they pushed him even farther. A few more turns and his muscles burned, but he recognized, up ahead, a faint glow cutting through the dim. He thought he saw a wide entrance, but his tired eyes could be deceiving him.

Blue halted, turning to Whisperer and uttering something while Red stared ahead. Whisperer muttered and looked at him, but suddenly he was off sprinting before he could try to smile at him. He watched after him, bewilderment edging on offense until Blue clicked. He was already walking; he had to follow.

He was noticing fresher scents from the yawning entrance— not extreme but intriguing nonetheless. There was something else too that made his nose twitch; familiar maybe, like the turtles, his _brothers_. He paused to consider it, mulled it in his brain, then complied to Blue's urging. They probably wouldn't bring him anywhere bad. And he felt drawn to that opening too. It shouldn't and couldn't be pain. He even pushed himself more; he was eager to—

He froze. A voice, a voice not belonging to Whisperer, was ahead and through the arch. Something low and husky. Cracking, he recognized. And Whisperer too, faintly, quiet as always. He swallowed thickly. That… voice wouldn't be bad, would it? Whisperer didn't sound too distressed and…

Red touched his arm suddenly and thrust his thumb back. He stepped away with a face that looked to be bridging… some kind of sadness. But they were urging him to go on, and they hadn't hurt him again—he obeyed.

Anticipation curled in his gut as they brought him closer. Queries hazed his mind and, despite everything, pushed his legs farther. He was beyond caution and wanted to _know_.

As they were close to rounding the corner, he paused, holding his breath. He heard a call from the mystery voice, directed at his brothers. He backed away first, releasing it in a puff. But the mystery voice, with thought, had the same layer his brothers’ did (mostly) when they talked to him. He considered more, searching Blue’s eyes—whoa, they were blue too—with questions that he didn’t know how to voice burning in his throat. Steam and smoke built up in his mouth; he puffed and freed it in a sigh, keeping his head low and alert as he rounded the corner.

He halted almost instantly, eyes fixed on the creature. Its attention met him straight, the… furred thing. He’d anticipated another turtle, not what looked to be a rat. But he supposed that tonight was just full of surprises. And it had its paw out and was beckoning him rather softly and nicely, so he began to pick his way to it.

He knocked his paw and tripped on the strange obstacles blocking the path. He sure didn’t appreciate getting his jaw slammed into the ground again; he picked himself up swiftly though. Rat had its ears flattened at him, but they were perking up as he got nearer. He noted Whisperer’s rather intent attention on him. He heard his other brothers behind him too, and he wondered fleetingly why they kept so close.

He paused to gaze up at Rat, to look into its eyes; they almost intimidated him. Brown, almost red, shiny—but they weren’t mean. Not now. Rat frowned, but he didn’t think it was mean either.  Sad, maybe. He knew what that was. He felt sad too; his legs hurt and he was really warm now and awfully confused.

It extended its paw suddenly, murmuring, saying that “D” word everyone but him knew, brushing his cheek—he jumped with a gasp. It jerked as well but didn't move much otherwise… except for getting more intimate, palm lingering over his jaw. He tolerated it only because it looked so upset and his brothers had brought him here for a reason, and it was with a trembling jaw. It spoke to him quietly, a little rapidly, now holding a paw under his chin. He focused on its eyes once more for a long beat, then he lowered his head, investigating thoroughly. And it wasn't half bad; a lot more herb than Blue, still nice, but still rat… He swallowed thickly as his mouth watered. He couldn't think of this rat like that… not when it— _he_ possessed the special Home scent that made him fuzzy inside. He hesitated and subsequently nuzzled the paw that pet back.

His brothers came around after it, talking in their speak. (He really wondered what Rat was to him. Another brother?) He laid down where he formerly stood, and his limbs screamed appreciation. He sighed, deep and pleasant, putting his head on his paws. It was hard, but it was relief.

 

He didn't think he'd dozed off until Red was nudging him. He picked his head up, staring blearily. Red just poked him again, standing and gesturing. He looked a bit more… lively. Which was a lot more than he could say for himself right now. He would humor Red for only a little while longer, he decided as he shakily brought himself up. Too far, and he'd balk.

Red led him away from the large main area and toward and smaller side; past a chamber that smelled distinctly delicious and called to him. But Red turned to a relatively open space, and he froze behind his brother in awe.

There were all kinds of mats on the floor, protecting his roughed pads from any more punishment. On the walls, there were all kinds of weapons, glimmering and sharp-edged but harmless on elaborate sticks and metal. In the middle in a halo of that artificial light was a large tree rooted. It called to him even more than that food room, and he trotted over.

He heard his family's clicks for his attention, but he ignored them for a second, brushing his snout over the bark. It was uneven, kinda craggy, bumpy. He stepped back and took a proper gaze about the room. This place would need proper exploring tomorrow.

His brothers rested on a bunch of colorful skins and rocks, patting the ground with his renewed attention. He didn't see Rat.

He didn't expect it, but the skins and the rocks were extraordinarily soft when he made contact. He marveled a second, then curled up promptly. The rocks had amazing give; he could bury his face in it. So, he did, a tiny purr hovering in his chest as he felt multiple paws fall on him.

He was hardly aware when he felt the new touch. He recognized Rat, but it was up, around his eye, gentle, delicate acts. He peered up, and there was Rat, eyes bright and narrow. He chirred mutedly, a truly content sigh slipping from him. Those eyes with a gleaming film were so common; maybe they weren't bad. Couldn't be.

He lifted his head to catch Rat’s paw and butt it. He purred, then put it back down, satisfied. He felt Rat settling beside him, and he smiled (he hoped) to himself.

No matter how little made sense tonight, he understood one small thing in a minute group: He did not regret following these turtles.

 


	2. Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i return with even cheesier titles

The sun was casting bright when he awoke. He narrowed his eyes at it as he shifted away, lying still more until he smelled something amazing and resolved to investigate. He pulled himself up gingerly, still aware of the ever-fading pain in his muscles, and glanced around. He hadn’t expected his brothers to leave him alone in here. They hadn’t stopped bothering him last night for sure.

They hadn’t left though; he heard them in the Big Room with some other indistinct noises. It was mild enough to not be of concern.

He heaved himself completely to his feet with a laborious huff, stretched, and then plodded over to the tree. It traced patterns with its thin, twisting, bare branches, and when he peered up through the winding design, the bright ball of light was at its zenith. He had slept a lot longer than he meant to after his brothers woke him up early. He blinked away with a disappointed snort and made his way to the opening a bit cautiously.

He poked his head out, following the sounds of his family to tip his head. He spotted them on one of those colorful oblong rocks, backs to him. Tantalizing scents drifted from their location. The urge to explore the Tree Room made his claws itch, but his brothers and their food called to him more. The uniform stone ledges that led into the Big Room confused his paws. He simply settled to jump.

His grunt and the click of his claws must have alerted the turtles—they whipped around on their bizarre rock to stare at him. Their alarm pulsed like angry teeth through the air, but then it softened with recognition and indecipherable kind words. He straightened stiffly, relieved at their ease, and wandered over, taking his time to better inspect his new surroundings.

He meandered with his nose hovering over the ground; it smelled traveled, thick with scents of all the turtles and Rat and… something like those Above creatures his family feared. He picked his head up, tipping it at them in question. If they were so wary that they hid away in an uncomfortable stone trap, why were the creatures’ scents so prevalent? He rumbled at their perplexed features and bowed his head, resuming his snuffling. It smelled only to be two: A male and a female. They would need to be present a lot to have such an impact around here… He determined a trail and made his way along it, all the way to the rock. He bumped into its soft surface, then gazed up, huffing his query. He got no answers but strange looks.

He swallowed a sigh and sat himself down. Whisperer rested closest to him at the near edge of the soft rock. In his paws was the source of the curious food smell. Triangular with some sauce that smelled tomatoey, it was covered in a yellow-white coat. It had a lot of other _questionable_ choices sprinkled on top also, but it couldn't be too awful if Whisperer consumed it. He was hungry anyway, and he didn't know the next time he would be able to eat. Even if his only current option set off every alarm in his head.

His bent his neck, leaning forward to snap it up before Whisperer cried something out and shoved his snout with a greasy paw. He gave his own noise of displeasure, scuttling away and rubbing at his muzzle. What kind of _evil_ stuff was that?

He glanced up; Whisperer was finishing the last of the triangle greedily—and Red and Blue just stared. He puffed a rumbly growl, lifting a paw to lick it and swipe it one final time over the afflicted area. So, Whisperer had food aggression, and that had been his. Noted.

Whisperer hopped off the rock and padded over to him. He wore a smile that looked only a little more genuine than last night’s as he reached out to pat his head and get that nasty stuff on him again. He spoke with a broader grin, eyes without such a shine—which he thought was good, so was he faking now?— and put his paws on the sides of his shell as he waltzed off back to the little passage. Blue and Red got up a bit reluctantly while Whisperer vanished into the Food Room. With that seemingly the destination, and with his empty stomach, he trotted after.

Red and Blue disappeared past a screen after giving him a glance. He scrutinized the curtain at a distance until he spied a part; he came closer and nosed at it. It felt a little like an extremely thin Soft Rock upon brief contact. Brief since it’d been driven back by his muzzle. It was safe, anyway, so he pushed himself through until he no longer could. He just slid down then, cocking his head to study the room…

And it really just smelled like the triangles.

Whisperer rustled through a large, smelly greenish container with a cold bite and some unnatural food (it had to be since he knew he smelled it) within. Blue leaned near, now patting his head, and Red stood a bit away, probably communicating with Whisperer. (He wished he could understand.)

Whisperer stepped back then, cradling in his arms a much smaller container whose inside walls were coated with condensation. He popped off the top and brought it to his nose before going to another holder at length. It opened like all the weird boxes in this den. And he just… put it in there. Casually. Pressed some things with a digit, then backed up, smiling at him. The box hummed with some unnatural life, and he shuddered. It unnerved him, that noise, all these new things. His claws involuntarily unsheathed and tried to sink into the stone.

Blue stroked his head and neck a little more vigorously, murmuring now. He soaked it up, a small purr even daring to build in his chest before a loud beeping cut through the air—he jumped with a wail, hitting his head on the wall as he scuttled out and retreated. His brothers were laughing as he evacuated to the Tree Room

 

_Be careful guys. I’m not sure he even knows who we are._

Casey's eyes burned as he glowered at Leo's text in the group chat. It wasn't from the heat, not from the smell, and conflicting emotions about this fact warred in his head.

He and Don had been caught not long ago, exploring their feelings pretty tentatively. There was anger, shock, disbelief; then acceptance later after it dissipated. _Boyfriends,_  Mikey had called them. Donnie started too after a few days, and Casey followed shortly for the hell of it. It wasn't anything formal, and he'd never thought about the implications. Not until now, when images of Don slobbery, spiky-shelled, sharp-toothed, and razor-clawed loomed and roared in his mind and it clenched his heart and made his stomach angry with a different fire.

He couldn't tell what to name the fire that now had knives at the backs of his eyes, and he decided he just didn't want to as he tried to casually rub his face.

“Hey, Casey,” April murmured next to him, “you realize this is Donatello, don't you? He has to come around.”

Casey didn’t have to be psychic to sense the fabricated hope in her voice. “Do you really believe that?” he asked dryly, dragging his eyes away from the screen. “I ain’t stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, and Donnie isn’t either. He has to realize something isn’t right. You have to trust him in that.”

“How can you still think like that?” tugged at his tongue with all the bullshit that had happened, but, for once, he decided it was best to not shoot back; Donnie didn’t need them to be more upset. Casey turned his head away, shoving his phone into his pocket.

As silence constricted them, Casey's legs were caught between urging him to hurry there and screaming to turn around. Dread turned them to weights, and then concern jolted them to life. It made the fire in the pit of his stomach sick. Sick with all the emotions he’d conditioned himself to think were weak.

Donnie said those feelings were natural. Normal. Human. Casey remembered his wistful eyes, his face tilted up to the bustling city above, and it only struck him now that he had brushed it off like it was nothing. Like Donnie hadn't been upset in the least.

It shouldn't have taken Donnie mutating into a monster for him to care.

Casey choked the instant his phone went off as a savior. He clumsily fumbled for it and withdrew the device, nearly tripping in the process. He felt April's second eyes probing him—the slight tingling sensation that ghosted on the back of his neck. He withheld a shudder as he tried to focus on Mikey's message.

_Hey guys i dont know where you are but if you're close you should wait. Ds chomping down on some hamburger rn and prob wont appreciate you guys barging in_

It took a second for Casey’s legs to comply and halt, but he soon could lean on the wall as he turned his ringtone off and swallowed grumbling complaints in his throat. April came by him too, quiet as a cat. Among everything else, jealousy bubbled.

“I think I can pull him back,” she said at length. “Like how I did with Splinter.”

“You think he’d let you?”

“When we get him to trust us.” She paused. “If he can’t come back on his own.”  

Casey hummed, leaning his head away down the path they came. His legs were in the stage that yelled for him to run home. He swallowed temptation, rolling his head the other way, to the lair in which Donnie with his friends sat, doing who knows what, hoping beyond everything he would come back…

Bile rose steadily in Casey’s throat, and he swallowed fiercely.

April put a hand on his shoulder, softly, and it proved enough to ground him.

For Donnie’s sake, he decided. Casey needed to make it up to him.

Casey and April resumed shortly after Mikey had given them the okay. It was close, so close, and now Casey was trapped in a perpetual cycle of needing to hurry and needing to leave. His legs felt weightless, prepared to sprint either way. He didn't though, because April's hand was around his wrist, tight and warning.

He felt ill. Ill from his apprehensions, his utter _weakness._  He had basically failed them; the one patrol he hadn’t joined went to shit when he could’ve done something. _Anything._

The night he decided to care about his fucking reading assignments.

They were at the corner now, about to turn, with April urging him on silently with tugs. He grappled his emotions one more time, and then he complied.

For the slightest, barest moment, Casey saw the image of a lean figure hunched, surrounded by the turtle brothers, but it was only for a flash before it had surged forward and swiped both him and April down.

Pain lanced up Casey’s spine as Donnie towered over them, his head lowered and jaws stretched in a roar. His breath still carried wafts of coffee and mint—the familiar tang. But it did nothing to ward off his boiling horror, as Donnie had reared back without the slimmest look of hesitation, pale talons outstretched. Casey met the livid blue eyes without honor, begging, _pleading—_

Casey hadn’t realized he’d soon shut his eyes to brace himself, and he pried them open again to see the guys fighting Don down with care, patting and murmuring. Donnie had released an indignant cry, but he wasn’t fighting. Not anymore. Casey inhaled sharply, wrestling his heart rate down. He was disgusted by his display of weakness and his apparent inability to defend himself. Next, he was ashamed, because that was _Donnie_ ; then he was frustrated at the fire in his abdomen that had burst into an inferno.

Casey took another deep breath and tried dousing it as he inched closer. Donnie jerked his head up, his lips pinned back, a guttural, rolling growl in his throat. Mikey grimaced, patting Don’s snout and subtly pushing it to the ground. Glancing up, he said quietly, “See if you can get him to smell ya.”

Casey relucted, staring into Don’s icy eyes for a long time before April brushed past him first. Donnie snarled, made an attempt to weasel forward, but April kept her hand still. Not advancing, not backing up. And, finally, Donnie extended his neck, flaring his nostrils. Something like recognition flashed on his features, but it was far from friendly. He pulled back, and he looked to be studying her hand, then her face. His stony expression melted just slightly, and he had put his attention on Casey. Waiting.

He sat dumbly for a few seconds, yet clashing with his stupid, _stupid_ emotions. Casey watched Donnie's face drop; his head broke free from Mikey's grasp to shove forward, huffing irritatedly. He registered April's nudge and her following attempts to push his hand closer—it took _that_ for him to blink free. He was sure his cheeks were tinted already, but he even more so felt the warmth and blood rushing to his face as he shakily complied.

 _Fuck,_  it wasn't a good day.

Donnie lingered a lot more for him, his eyes sharper than a blade. He cycled through a snarl, a neutral expression, confusion, and something like a grimace as he scooted back. Donnie voluntarily looked Casey in the eye, like he expected something, and it killed him to admit he had no idea what he wanted.

Casey slumped while Donnie encouraged the guys to let him free. He heaved himself up, alternating his attention between him and April until she offered her hand out. Donnie whuffed, and his tail thumped once as he bunted it. She scratched his cheek; Casey barely heard her breathed, “Hi, Donnie,” as he stared. He noticed that Donnie's build wasn't so _svelte_ anymore; his arms had filled out well, his shoulders were broad, his neck was long and thick—though his abdomen sloped upward into a comparatively thin tail.

That tail with its pale tip flicked up upon the owner catching Casey's eyes. He gave April a last nudge before he situated himself closer to Casey. He found the power somewhere to hold out his palm. He dragged himself out of it because, _hey_ , this was Donnie (the big markings around his eyes said so, even though the eyes themselves screamed the opposite), and, at least, he wasn't attacking anymore.  He was actually rubbing his _freakishly cold_ nose on Casey's hand, chirring an unspoken question quietly. Casey regained control of his limbs and shifted, holding Donnie's head with both hands and scratching. Donnie practically went cross-eyed with pleasure, and Casey fought every molecule in his being to stop himself from pushing his face into Donnie's neck and sobbing.

 

 

“You said you didn't think he knows who you guys are,” Casey said in a low voice, aware of the meditating Splinter behind them.

“I don't know,” Leo said, fidgeting. “I think he knows he can trust us—” he brushed the bridge of Donnie's snout with his knuckles “—but I don't think he actually… _knows."_

“Poor D,” Mikey murmured, stroking Donnie's neck as he glanced around at all of them, a kind of puppy smile on his face. It was like a mixture of something human and a snarl. A very toothy grin. It was almost cute, Casey decided.

“My dad can help him,” April said then. “He _will_. He's… He's always wanted the chance to return the favor.”

“Yeah.” Leo nodded. “We've been thinking about asking Dr. Rockwell too.”

As they spoke, Casey's attention focused on Raph. He had his eyes down, burning fiercely, staring at the floor like he wanted nothing more than to make it crumble. Casey meant to make a move, but Donnie beat him. He'd dropped his head down and was nuzzling Raph's knee. The turtle remained frozen for a long moment, but he finally sighed and humored Don. The guys gave Raph sympathetic pats and looks, and then the conversation continued.

“So, last night when you guys were tracking down that mutagen,” April began softly. “ _What happened_?”

“I… I don't really know. We just heard a splash and Donnie scream and…” Leo gestured mildly, if not a little jerkily, to the dappled super mutant. His face was bluer than his mask as he twiddled his thumbs.

“That fucking _sucks_ ,” Casey muttered, and he hated the way his voice broke.

“Yeah, but… at least he's finally out of his lab.” Mikey's smile was like glass.

“After _it_ was over, Donnie tried to, uh, run away, and…” Leo fell off.

“I tackled him.”

“Yes, Mikey, you did,” Raph said, Donnie still under his arm, “and we had to jump in so Donnie didn't bite your head off.”

Donnie whined like he understood. Casey knew it wasn't like that though; Don just comprehended the anger. Casey had quickly discovered Donnie didn't even know his own goddamn name.

“Stop; you're scaring him. And seriously, dude, we can't have him running around. He's big and _dumb_ —” Mikey's gaze went fond “—and he'd get us in trouble, y’know?”

“So he's calmed down a lot, huh?” April broke the subsequent silence, leaning forward to pat his shoulder.

“Yes…” Leo's eyes were narrowed.

Casey knew what was coming next, and the slightest, smallest, scantest drop of hope condensed in his stomach.

“I’ve been thinking, and I… think I can bring Donnie back. What I did with Splinter.”

“That… sounded like it really hurt,” Mikey said slowly, dragging his palm over Donnie's neck, almost protectively.

“And Splinter went batshit on me,” Casey added hesitantly. The drop sizzled.

“Not after Splinter returned…” April sighed. “It'll help him, in the long run. I love him too, guys; I don't _want_ to hurt him.”

“You should wait,” Raph grumbled. “See if he can do it on his own.”’

“I’m not saying we do it now.” April sounded tired. “Some other time, yeah…”

“Give him until the end of the year. New Year’s is soon,” Mikey said, petting Donnie’s head. He’d pulled his head free and was glancing around again. Without the smile. Confused.

But, then, Casey imagined Donnie's face wasn't much else.  

“Yeah…”

At this point, everybody was touching Donnie, and he seemed to had just given up on puzzlement.

“Hey, dudes,” Mikey spoke after a long minute. “I've been thinking, and some nature doc comes on soon, and… you think Donnie would enjoy it?”

“Oh, maybe,” Leo said. “If we get him to realize something’s even on.”

“It might even nudge him a little!” Mikey sounded optimistic. Casey's mouth was dry at the thought. Donnie had a look dumber than ever as he stared down Casey—he’d just noticed—with a downturned muzzle and slit eyes. Casey gazed back, and then Donnie averted his attention as he stared up at the sorry-looking tree.

“Well,” Raph said lowly, eyes narrowed, “if we wanna try, we better hurry ‘cause I saw that too, and it comes on pretty soon.”

“And maybe… you think Donnie would want popcorn?”

“Probably, but we shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I guess, but...”

Mikey’s voice faded as Casey's mind wandered. Casey had wanted to find a way to sneak Donnie into a movie theater for months, long before Donnie even had looked at him differently, but, when he’d, at last, suggested it, Donnie had laughed. Good-naturedly, maybe sadly. He was prepared to paint Donnie and stuff him in a massive trench coat if he had to; Don said he could pirate a movie just as easily without risking everything. “Who’d come down to the sewers to arrest a giant turtle man for downloading _Moana?_ ” he’d said.

“I don’t want _Moana_ ,” he had replied tartly. “It's not even _in_ the movies.”

“I can almost guarantee it's better than anything there right now. We're watching it.”

Then shit had gone down, and they never did.

And then _this._

Casey would kill to get the chance, he thought.

Casey only roused when everyone stood. He followed immediately, trying to conceal the way his head spun promptly. Donnie looked to be sitting himself up when Splinter spoke suddenly, and Casey jumped.

“I wish to speak with Casey,” Splinter said, gazing at him. “It should not take too long. You may go on.” He signaled to the guys and included April.

Casey's heart jumped into his throat.

The words subsequent were a blur, and they were beckoning Donnie. He watched as Don began to resume pulling himself up, reluct as he glanced at Casey, and then inch himself over, slowly, toward him. He trilled at his brothers before he was eye-level with Casey.

Splinter hummed once they had left. “Donatello cares much about you.”

Casey tried to swallow his heart as he rested a palm on Donnie's neck. “...Yeah.”

The next inevitable question was like a bee buzzing in Casey's ears.

“And how do _you_ feel about Donatello?”

Splinter’s eyes burned into his skin, and he felt the ever-mounting need to _hide_ . He just bit back a shudder, staring a hole through Donnie's neck to avoid the contact. _I'm such a goddamn coward._

Donnie's nose brushed Casey's shoulder as the big turtle chirred. It was a quiet noise, and when Casey dared to look at him, his face wasn't so _dumb_ anymore. His eyes were big, brows furrowed, expression intent—Casey snapped his head down before his eyes started to burn too much.

“Do you still believe you feel the same way, Casey?”

“... No.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He seemed to gravitate naturally to Donnie's goddamn giraffe neck, shoving his forehead against the more sensitive lighter scales. A deep inhale traveled through his throat, and then Donnie was pushing himself closer. Purring, oh so quietly, just enough to rumble faintly in Casey's ear. It was as though it was enough to shake the drops of wet around his eyes; then it was trailing down his cheek.

Casey bared his teeth like he could fight all the emotions rising up and slashing at his eyes. _If this is what it's like to be human, Donnie, then I hate it._

A paw landed softly on his shoulder—a silent prompt or comfort, he didn't know, nor did he care. But the answer was humming in his mind, and it slipped through his lips in broken phrases.

“I-I care _more_ … I… _appreciate_ him m-more—I-I was an _asshole_ for no fucking reason… more than we play— _played_ —” His rant still flowed in his brain, but his body was racked by a shuddering gasp.

Donnie whimpered in Casey's ear. He felt Donnie bring his jaw to his back, felt him trying to get an arm around his waist, and, maybe, Casey thought through all the turmoil, their Donnie wasn't as gone as he'd thought.

It didn't lessen the tears, didn't douse the fire in his stomach, didn't ease the sobs biting his chest, but it did, just slightly, revive the drop of hope.

But that didn't matter as he completely crumbled; everything little weakness he stored behind a dam that had defected a little more every day until it broke and surged. He was only faintly aware of Splinter rubbing circles on his back, below Donnie's nose. He was still purring, louder than ever.

It was the only thing in Casey's ears as he succumbed to human nature.

  


Mikey lingered in the doorway of the dojo, fingering the mirror in his hands lightly. It was Leo's, the pastel red handheld one, and Mikey’d learned not to ask.

Donnie laid around the tree, curled up around it with his shell to him. Mikey was about to step forward for the tenth time before he hesitated again. Donnie’d been kind of pissy since they'd tried to get him into T.V. He'd eventually understood the documentary and even tried to chase the rabbits, but anything else… Mikey was certain it was frustration that made Donnie snap at them, but it still… hurt.

Mikey'd tried to give D time to chill, but since the documentary hadn't been as provocative as he hoped, his chest felt fuzzy with hope as he, at last, took that step forward. Then another. And another. And Donnie wasn't actually asleep; he'd shifted his head to peer at Mikey, rumbling.

He waved, offering the best smile as he brought himself closer and then kneeled. Long before then, Donnie had noticed the mirror, and his eyes gleamed with renewed energy as he sniffed.

Mikey still had yet to turn it around. Some coldness started to seep into his stomach, and he tightened his grip on the plastic object. He sucked in a deep breath and extended his arm to pat Donnie's neck. He sniffed the mirror pretty thoroughly before butting it and turning a questioning stare at Mikey. His fingers shook suddenly, and doubt struck him. What if Donnie…

No, it didn't matter, because he was trying, and any try was a good try. So, slowly, he flipped it around.

Donnie flung back like he'd been hit. Mikey tried _so hard_ to keep himself steady, but he faltered when Donnie _roared_ , deep and guttural and _angry._ Mikey whipped the mirror around before his brother could lunge, clutching it to his chest. Donnie absolutely froze, staring with eyes on fire. He whipped around, huffing and snorting, flexing his claws, and it made Mikey's heart ache. Mikey called out quietly, but Donnie didn't respond, back still heaving and stance prepared to fight. His mouth went dry, but he forced his tongue to click instead because at least Donnie recognized _that_ as a call for attention. Donnie twirled as though he expected the enemy to be there like he thought Mikey’d clucked for _help,_ as funny as it sounded. But there was no battle to fight; Donnie’s snarl faltered, he sniffed the air, and then his muscles loosened as he glanced around, more subdued.

“It’s okay, dummy,” he almost laughed, almost smiled. “C’mere.”

Donnie watched for a long moment, then began slinking forward. Whether he understood or it was a coincidence was undetermined.

 _Probably just him deciding all by himself,_ Mikey decided sadly. But Donnie wasn’t quite the one to listen anyway when he put his mind to something.

But whatever. Donnie was here now, so it was best to keep his attention.

“This is a _mirror_ , bro. It’s _you_.” He tapped the back with a finger, and Donnie raised a paw and imitated him, in a more rough, struggling sense.

“Yeah, see? Not gonna hurt you!” Mikey patted the back once more, then turned it back around and did the same to the reflective surface. Donnie jumped back and screamed.

“Dude, it’s _okay_.” He waved his hand almost frantically in front of it. “It. Is. Okay.” Donnie remained crouched, flattened to the ground, but his eyes were contracting from their saucer size. They almost recaptured the curious gleam; but he spotted himself again. But it wasn’t as intense, and he perked up again, slightly. Soon he inched himself up. Some hope roused in Mikey’s chest, and he gestured him over, mindful to keep his posture mild.

D did come over, without much more urging. Mikey noted his taut muscles, the way he held his tall head high, how his tail loosely (only because it didn’t have the freedom, he assumed) curled over his shell; how his lip pulled back, his teeth bared. He stomped up to him and the mirror and huffed angrily at his reflection. A weak laugh bubbled in his chest. Donnie stared at him, head tilted, then glanced back down, his eyes softening. Mikey watched as Donnie bobbed his head experimentally, up and down, left and right. His light eyes returned again to smoldering, were doused, then lit up again, and he cycled through emotions as he persisted in considering it. The desire, the _need_ , to say something boiled in Mikey’s chest, but he bit his tongue because interrupting him _now_ would utterly ruin it. This prompted provocation; it was stirring; Donnie needed to _think_.

And, looking, D definitely looked like he was thinking. His eyes were intent on the mirror; he wasn’t moving anymore, except for the rise and fall of his chest and his pupils shifting as they took it in. The mirror and _he_ flashed in the black almonds, but Donnie took no notice of him any longer. It was all his image cast, and, at length, he gingerly reached forward and nudged the surface with his nose.

The movement pushed Mikey a bit, but the pulling away of the mirror was his own. Donnie stared at him, surprised, suddenly acknowledging his presence once more as he whispered, “ _You don’t get it_.”

Donnie tipped his head, chittering lowly, almost cautiously. Mikey's head swam with fire, and a sick knot had bound itself around his heart. “Don-Don,” Mikey murmured, imploring Donnie's head down, “what can we _do_ ? We're trying so hard and… We don't want it to hurt you. That's the _last_ thing we wanna do. Donnie, what can we—” He halted because he _knew_ his words fell on deaf ears. It was just hurting Donnie, letting him hear this… this bullshit. He needed positivity, so what was _Mikey_ , the beacon of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, the _glue_ , doing talking to D like this? Mikey collected all the pieces of his heart and reassembled them, simultaneously pushing everything else back. He laughed (though he admitted it was feeble and that he could do better) and grinned at him. “It's okay though, 'cause we're gonna keep trying, and we're not gonna give up!”

Donnie squinted at him. His lips were pressed into a tight frown, but shortly they parted. He heaved a giant human sigh and shook his head. His eyes were dull when he looked up again, and Mikey's raveled heart was tugged tighter. His poor brother was clearly tired. Tired of all the confusion, all of the pain he couldn't grasp. And it was their fault.

“It's okay, Donnie.” Mikey kept his voice softer, hopefully more genuine.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.”

 

“Hey, Raph, where's the remote?”

“Goddammit, you had it last, Mikey!”

“Well, I can't find it.”

“We missed the ball drop last year, and I swear to god if we miss it again—”

“Uh, guys... it's right here.”

“Thank fucking god, Leo.”

April sat silently on the couch, watching the fiasco conclude. Mikey had been running around for quite a bit now, and April had helped at first. But she took note that Donnie seemed on edge, and she'd retired to pet his neck and tell him it was okay. His head was in her lap now; his eyes fixed on his brothers. They were all settling on the couch too as Casey exited the kitchen with a bottle of water.

Donnie snuffled at Casey and his bottle as he fell onto the couch. The boy smiled lightly at him and patted his snout while he said quietly, “So, I'm guessing Mikey found the remote?” Donnie had shifted to dedicate his attention to Casey; Donnie's head lay in Casey's lap now as he stroked his jaw.

“Oh, yeah…” April watched as Donnie pushed himself suddenly closer, then asked, “So, you and Donnie are a proper thing?”

Casey remained mute for quite a few beats, fondling Donnie's neck in a more subdued manner, until he replied, “Well, I sure as hell hope so with all the shit I gotta deal with. You guys have no idea how hard I gotta fight my old man to stay over this long anymore. He's real pissed I ain't gonna be over for New Year's, and I feel kinda bad, but, hey…” His eyes went fond on Donnie. “Whatever.”

Casey's conflict pricked like needles at the back of her conscience, and she smiled sympathetically. “I think he'll appreciate you being here,” she said.

“He _does_.” Casey paused for a second, then resumed his caressing, eyes narrowed just a bit. “You're still gonna do it tonight?”

“He still hasn't—”

“Five minutes!” Mikey said abruptly. He had a grin that looked a bit too wide, and his suppressed pain rumbled oh so faintly in April's head. “I kinda wanted to see it in person this time, but, like, this is cool too.” His eyes were on Donnie.

“Beats not seeing it at all.” Raph's eyes, on the other hand, were locked on Mikey and sparking with intent.

“It's really cold, anyway.” Leo, eager as ever to diffuse.

“Yeah,” Mikey said absently.

It was constrictingly silent for a few moments before April asked, “Is Splinter coming soon?”

“He should be,” Leo said. “He’s probably meditating right now, actually. I'll go… get him.” And Leo left.

“Hurry!” Mikey called after him. “Two minutes!”

“God,” Casey said, “this year's really gone by _slow_.”

“Really? I felt like it went by pretty fast,” Mikey replied.

“You didn't have to deal with school shit.”

“Well, yeah…”

And it was quiet again, all except for Donnie's dog groans. It remained that way for a minute and a bit until Leo returned with Splinter. Donnie picked his head up promptly and warbled an enthusiastic greeting; he butted Casey's hand before slinking over and shoving his forehead against Splinter's chest.

“Raph, scoot over so Splinter can sit down,” Mikey said then, leaning forward with some of the familiar glow in his eyes as he kept a close eye on the countdown.

“Right.”

Donnie followed Splinter closely all the way to the couch, at which he just laid down at the base and put his jaw on the cushion. He seemed completely oblivious to the anticipation buzzing in the room; that, or he didn't care. It was surprisingly difficult to reach Donnie's emotions, and, even when she succeeded, she could only grasp it for a split second before it slipped away again. Donnie had erected a mental barrier, she knew, before _this_ , to challenge her, but she doubted it was still present in his… state. She didn't quite understand why, though she had a few theories.

But it didn't matter now. There were thirty seconds left until midnight.

The crowd on the television hummed with intensifying life as it grew nearer and nearer, and so did her group, more subtly. Donnie watched them now, head slanted.

Ten seconds, and Donnie was huffing now. Just for a moment, the air tingled with curiosity and frustration.

Five seconds, and he was about to put his head down again.

At midnight, he yelped as the T.V. roared and the guys clapped; as Casey grasped Donnie's head and pecked him on the nose. He looked utterly flabbergasted, his eyes round, his jaw parted. His expression pinched at Casey like he was considering long and hard before he slowly nudged Casey's neck. The boy's ears were red; he averted everyone's eyes and stared at Donnie's neck, scratching his chin. And Donnie seemed to forget everything that had just transpired, and he purred.

April waited for a bit until Donnie had gotten comfortable and relaxed again. Until everyone had, really. He was a bit away from her in the same location, his eyes clearly heavy, his forelimbs tucked under him. It appeared uncomfortable, she thought, but he didn't seem at all bothered by it.

She was preparing to open her mouth before relucting. He looked so peaceful and calm and… did she really want to disturb him? _Yes_ , _because we'll get_ our _Donnie back_ , her mind said, but her heart tugged. She mulled for a few seconds, then clicked for him.

Donnie blinked a few times, raising his head subsequently and flitting his eyes over everyone. Again she clicked, and Donnie yawned before dragging himself to her.

She sensed everyone's eyes burning into her, hope mixed with hesitation and uncertainty. All except for Splinter's and Donnie's, the latter of which were fuzzy and content as she gingerly settled her palms on Donnie's temples. He wasn't the least bit concerned and even nuzzled her wrist. She felt his gentle pulse under her fingers while he stilled. He met her stare with hazy blue eyes, cool as ice, with shimmers of trust slicing occasionally through the mist to gleam at her.

Grief tugged at her heart with the knowledge she would have to disrupt _this_. She wished he didn't have to be so unaware, that she was doing this with consent, _that she didn't have to hurt him_. But it would only help him later, and the idea mustered enough will.

“Hey, Donnie,” she said, using a free finger to brush his cheek, “I'm sorry I have to do this, but I promise it will only hurt for a minute. Just bear with me, okay?”

He chirred obliviously.

April heaved a sigh and collected all of her energy—

And Donnie _screamed_.

  
  



	3. Cool Dusk Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donnie gets very vocal, and even when there are so many words for a warbling vocalization, I still ran out. geez if you know anymore synonyms for trill hit me up and I will love you forever
> 
> And! Thanks to my cousin for proofreading this one! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND I LOVE YOU
> 
> also please tell me if you see any typos I was mostly tired as hell when I wrote this.

“Is Donnie really still in the dojo?”

Raph's voice rang clear from the kitchen doorway, seeping with some irritation and then thinly veiled concern. “He oughta have come out by now.”

“I tried luring him out with food, but I guess D's not into ramen right now,” Mikey said as Raph carried himself to the common room, cup in hand. More quietly, he added, “Man, I don't think we even have anything else for him…”

“He's scared of April,” Leo said plainly from his spot on the couch. “What are we supposed to do about it—tell her she can't come anymore?”

“Don't say that. She'll do it if she ain't thinking about it already. And Donnie's gotta get used to her again, the way things seem to be going.” Raph's tone, now in closer range as he sat on the couch, sounded uncharacteristically subdued, lacking the typical interwoven passion they all had come to know.

“She can't stop coming,” Mikey objected. “It'd mess up everything. Casey would probably have to stop too, and then Donnie would be depressed, and…” He shook his head.

Leo exhaled and slouched. Several beats of silence followed with some uncomfortable movements before he, at last, said, “Well, Kirby and Rockwell are gonna be here soon. Let's try to get Donnie out here so we can try to restrain him.”

Leo and Mikey rose, but Raph remained down for a few additional moments, sipping from his cup a tad leisurely. He met Leo's gaze idly, arching a brow before sighing at the tacit demand. He picked himself up and tipped his head, quietly saying, “I swear, Leo, if Donnie knocks that over throwing a fit—”

When they came upon the dojo threshold, Donnie was curled up with his forelimbs under him, nose tilted up and eyes largely shut. Leo barely caught the backward flick of the pupil before Donnie displayed proper signs of acknowledging them. The super mutant nodded his head toward them, a low rumbling in his chest as he blinked a few times. Mikey greeted him, waving and resuming onward. Donnie rose to meet him, shoulders and neck hunched, tail tip quivering. His eyes seemed to gleam with an unusual discomfort as Mikey grasped Donnie's forelimb in a hug. Donnie turned his head away, something reminiscent of a gulp passing his throat.

“Aw, Donnie, it's okay,” Mikey said, tightening the hold while Leo came forward as an additional comfort—Raph must've too at some point with his palm stationary on Donnie's lower carapace. Donnie’s eyes narrowed. “April isn’t here,” Mikey continued on, somewhat slowly. “You don’t gotta be worried; you don't gotta be worried at all, really.”

Donnie rolled his head back over with slitted pupils, something accusing now replacing the previous glint. His lip trembled in a rumbly puff as it morphed into a glare. Mikey’s face flashed with shock for just a fleeting moment before it melted in reluctant chuckles. “Oh, stop it,” he said good-naturedly. “Stop pouting, and we’ll get you something to eat; cool?”

Donnie’s façade faltered before crashing, and he slumped with a growling sigh.

“Yeah, see? It’s not so bad. C’mon.”

Donnie glumly watched Mikey’s back as he departed, and he remained immobile for quite a bit longer before he heaved himself up and trudged after him.

“I don’t see why he’s gotta be so pissy with us,” Raph said to Leo once Donnie’s tail had slipped around the corner.

“Well, we didn’t ‘help.’ We’d both probably be upset too if we didn’t know why no one saved us. You have to understand that.”

“But, god, he didn’t have to bite me _again_. He’s acting like we did it.”

‘Okay, that was your fault. He warned you, and you didn’t listen.”

“He _bit_ me. I’ve never bitten any of you! It’s…”

“That’s a lie, and you know it. But you know he thinks differently, and you provoked him first.”

“That doesn’t mean he has to act like we’re the worst things ever! Enough people think that… We weren’t the ones who hurt him, Leo.”

“But… we were the ones who let it happen.”

 

 

In the end, Mikey didn’t find anything Donnie accepted. Again, he didn’t take kindly to ramen, and he didn’t want algae after he was evidently perturbed by the appearance of a room he had never noticed prior. (It was _his_ _lab_ ; it wasn’t right that he slunk around like it was unfamiliar territory.) So, now, he laid in the media pit, sullenly rasping his tongue over his forelimb; he’d been doing it for a while, and Leo guessed it was an idle action. It was silent, excluding the show on T.V. no one was watching and Donnie’s occasional unexplained noises.

Donnie just kept it up as Leo watched. He swore his brother had been licking the same area for at least thirty minutes. Long strokes, rhythmic and steady, constant and strong. Leo wondered fleetingly if he'd been injured—there was no point or place he could have, he thought, unless during the _struggle_ … He had thrashed an awful though brief lot, screamed himself raw, and Leo drew a shuddering breath in. He had to be fine. So… _Are you really that upset, Donnie?_ A knife of contempt stabbed him, and he tried to force it all away with another inhale because it was _not_ his fault, how he behaved immaturely. He told his brothers the same thing, and he told himself strongly now as Donnie froze, strikingly pink tongue poised to perform the repetitive action as he marked Leo’s eyes. He brought his head slowly up with a face pinched in question. His throat clenched with an answer he didn’t know how to voice while Donnie continued to stare, up until Mikey said, “You feeling better, Donnie?” Donnie tipped his muzzle down and narrowed his eyes. “I mean, if you do…” Mikey patted the space next to him. Quietly, Donnie chirred and made no other response. Mikey squinted at him.

“What did you expect from him?” Raph asked after a few moments. The volume was low, but underneath it carried a rip current of harshness, and his teeth looked to be bared under the surface. His eyes were set on Donnie.

“Well, kinda expected him to come over… You think he’s okay?” Mikey replied. Leo glanced at Donnie to see he’d shifted his head over to them. Something Leo hadn’t seen in days glittered in Donnie’s eyes; he was oddly alert, attentive, and his tail tremored lightly with a different breed of anticipation. “Maybe Donnie’s hurt?”  As Mikey spoke, Donnie’s dilating pupils flitted to him.

“I don't think so,” Leo said. “Donnie’s not really acting like it, is he?”

“He's been licking his arm a lot though. Maybe he hurt it or something.” Mikey shrugged and, upon noticing Donnie's attention, waved. To Leo's surprise, Donnie rose to his feet, turned slowly, and deliberately padded his way over. He plopped himself right in view of the television—which didn't matter because no one could focus on whatever series Mikey had scrounged up that night anyway—and stared down at them. His eyes burned Leo like blue flames with their sheer intensity. It was nothing hostile, nothing hostile at all, but Leo still had trouble not squirming under the unfamiliar glare. It verged desperation, what burned in there. In one smooth moment, Donnie had reared up and planted his paws on the seat, spread to encompass and loom over them all. Still not hostile, but Leo pushed himself back. He towered over them, peering down with an expression between excitement and...and something Leo didn't know what to call, but it seemed so out of place on those features anymore. _It's only been five days..._

“Donnie…” Raph trailed off when the mutant-in-question’s head snapped promptly to him and leaned down. Raph somehow managed to stare him head-on, but he still cringed back. “What?”

“What's wrong?” Leo asked more out of instinct than anything; Donnie didn't look at him or even acknowledge his presence.

Mikey reached over and clasped Donnie's clearly uninjured forelimb. But he only cast his attention over when Mikey said, “Donnie, dude, what's wrong?” Donnie's eyes were widening with a large grin as he looked over all of them. Chuffs, hearty and rather loud, bubbled out of him like warm laughter and melted away Leo's cold foreboding. “What? What is it?” Mikey was saying now, voice edged with his own laughter, as confused as it was.

“Donnie?” Raph beat Leo to saying. His head was tipped, and, Leo saw, his eyes were the brightest they'd been since Donnie's… mutation. His face neared hopeful like he just dared to lift it up. Donnie chirruped and trilled gleefully and bunted his way under Raph's chin, dropping simultaneously from the couch.

“Guys… do you think…?” Mikey whispered.

“Donnie,” Leo said experimentally, deliberately. Delight burst in his chest when his brother actually _responded._ Donnie extricated himself from Raph and nuzzled into Leo briefly before bounding off. Leo turned in time to observe his giant brother bowling into Master Splinter, who'd evidently been approaching. Sensei had staggered, but now he tried to humor his enthusiastically whuffing son with all the energy he could return with the uncertainty visible on his face. Raph and Mikey jumped up to hurry over, and Leo hastened after them.

“My sons,” Splinter said, a puzzled smile crossing his face, “I thought I would see what has Donatello—” Donnie chirred loudly “—so… noisy. And, now, clearly excited.”

“Sensei, he—” Leo began but halted as it died on his lips. Donnie understood his _name._ His poor brother had forgotten his name, and now he remembered. That was all. That was the simple extent of it.

Leo's pleasure withered instantly. He swallowed and resumed with dead passion, “He… H-He knows his name, Sensei.”

Splinter's ears perked. “I see,” he muttered. As he looked at Donnie burying his snout into his shoulder, his typical stoic features flickered and glowed fond.

“He's so excited,” Mikey laughed, throwing his arms around Donnie's limb.

“It's Donnie,” Raph said, and the hug he enveloped their brother's neck in when he turned was the most genuine Leo had seen him give… in a long time, actually. “He loves figuring shit out.”

 _He should've already known_ boiled in Leo's chest, and it took all his will to not release the steam.

Splinter’s features still brimmed with affection when Leo forced himself to refocus. But, soon, one ear swiveled back, and the general expression returned as he said, “Prepare to hold Donatello. They are near.”

Donnie's excitement fizzled as everyone else’s subsided with caution. He crouched, panting, eyes on the lair entrance, thunder growling in his throat. He always knew very quickly when something was _wrong—_ Donnie wasn't dumb.

The monkey, the middle-aged man, and the teenager rounded the corner, and Donnie had already leaped to his feet to _scream._ But they hadn't crossed the turnstiles yet. Donnie stood stiff-legged, gnarring furiously, and had his tail stuck out like a pennant of warning. He disregarded Splinter's tight clutch on his shoulder and their collective murmuring; as soon as April stepped over Donnie's boundary, he moved to spring into action. He didn't get very far though; Splinter acted swiftly in subduing Donatello, and, really, Leo and his brothers were only there to help console Donnie as he roared. Leo heard Rockwell and Kirby enter the lair as well, but he only managed a look when Donnie's noises reduced to huffs—all three had their attention on everything but them. Leo couldn't blame them.

After a few minutes, Donnie evidently had worn himself out or simply submitted. Animosity and now chagrin scorched his face, but when Splinter reluctantly released, he pulled himself up slowly and hissed. Leo almost shuddered at the way in which his brother’s face contorted. Before anyone could grasp words to speak, Donnie had whirled and begun to stalk to the dojo.

“Give him time to calm down,” Splinter said after a long moment. His ears were flattened, and they only slightly were brought up upon turning to Kirby and Rockwell. “I apologize for… that.”

“So,” Raph began before anyone else could, “when do you think you'll be able to start fixing _that?_ ”

“Hopefully today, right?” April's glance danced between her dad and the mutant.

Rockwell answered, moving toward Donnie's lab. “Perhaps. I would really like to accustom myself to Donatello's laboratory for today. In a few hours, I must return to the base; Leatherhead is ill. Likely I'll be able to observe Donatello's blood under the microscope though—he _does_ own one, doesn't he?”

“Yeah,” Raph said flatly.

“Oh no! Is Leatherhead okay?” Mikey asked as he hurried after Rockwell and Kirby and a hesitant April. Leo didn't hear the response, as he was more focused on a pensive Splinter.

“Donnie… There's no way he's gonna let us draw blood,” Leo said quietly.

“‘Let us,’ maybe.” Splinter sighed. “We may have to break Donatello's trust for a second time.” He laid one hand on Leo's shoulder fleetingly before heading to the lab. Raph shrugged at Leo, gestured to the dojo, and walked off, leaving Leo alone to run through all the possible horrible outcomes that could result from approaching Donatello with a needle.

 

 

 

“I know you don't understand what I say,” Raph said quietly, rubbing Donnie's chin, “but obviously you give some fucks.” He pulled back and crossed his arms, staring at him as his brother tipped his head curiously. It had overcome the sour gleam that'd shown in his eyes before, and now he rumbled softly. “You wouldn't of figured out your name if ya didn't.” Donnie's eyes narrowed. “So, do ya know anything else? Leo, Mikey, Casey, me? Raph?” Donnie didn't respond, which Raph took as a no.

“Raph.” He pointed to his own plastron and again said his name. Donnie's pupils dilated, and the large turtle perked up with a chitter. Raph repeated the gesture multiple times before Donnie contorted his face and snarled. He blinked, almost in surprise at himself, and did it again. It was only a little clearer, and then it dawned on Raph that Donnie was trying to imitate him. “ _Raph,_ ” he enunciated beyond hope, daring to wish. Donnie made the same damn noise and hauled himself to his haunches. He rose one of his forelimbs and, with evident great difficulty, started trying to manipulate it enough to place his paw on his chest. It was pointless though—clearly his poor brother's anatomy wouldn't allow it. He kept getting more frustrated, huffing and snorting until Raph finally had had enough. “You weren't right anyway,” he said as he took Donnie's arm and lowered it. “ _You're—”_ he pointed as he spoke “—Donnie. _I'm_ Raph.”

Donnie just screwed up his face.

“You’re not dumb,” Raph at last huffed. “You'll get it 'ventually.” At Raph's dismissive tone, Donnie unwound and flopped down with a huge sigh. He only laid like that for a blink before he started nuzzling closer to Raph. Raph glanced at the dojo entrance, let his gaze rest on the threshold for some more moments, and then moved to embrace his neck.

“Oh, god, Donnie,” Raph muttered. Donnie mumbled back, whining happily as he let his head hang over Raph's carapace. “You're too fucking big to be doin’ this.” Still, he breathily chuckled, putting his hand up—

“Hey, Raph—” The turtle in question jumped and removed himself from Donnie's personal space swiftly as Mikey entered. Both brothers had some variation of shock plastered on their features, but Mikey's dissolved quickly into laughter. “It's okay, dude. Just wanted to say that Rockwell and Kirby left. Splinter's still in Donnie's lab and stuff. And, uh, April's still here. But we have pizza!”  

Raph cleared his throat. “Anything for Donnie?”

“Oh, right… No, but I think Kirby's gonna bring some food tomorrow. _Think._ ”

“Donnie's not eaten at all today,” Raph said, huffing as he stood. Donnie followed suit as they all departed.

“We'll figure it out.” Mikey collapsed on the couch. Leo already sat, and April placed herself far off, knees propped up and her chin resting on them. Raph approached and slouched between Leo and Mikey. He examined the pizza box to find (to his relief) pizza still remaining; Mikey was learning moderation.

Donnie slunk over and eyed both the box and April suspiciously. He glared at her for another moment before nosing the container. When he couldn't figure it out apparently, he just brought an imploring stare to the brothers as they tried to eat.

“Oh, god,” Leo mumbled. “We can't just eat while he has nothing.”

“Well, what are we s’posed to do?” Mikey lamented.

“Can't we at least give him some pepperonis or something?” Leo asked. He looked down at his slice, delicately picked off some sausage, and tossed it with a “Here, Donnie.” He pounced instantly.

“Whoa, dude!” Mikey said, a smile lifting his face. “You're really damn hungry, huh?” Donnie slunk closer, even more so eyeing everyone's pizza with intent. Like some big cat, he paced in front of them slowly, his tail tip flicking.

“God, doesn't take long for him to go all predator on us,” Raph grumbled.

“Aw, he's just hungry,” Mikey said. “Anyway, shut up, dude. I _just_ saw you cuddling with him.”

Raph set his jaw and directed his gaze elsewhere. Not on Mikey, and not on his deformed brother. He didn't have the energy to argue, and he forlornly took a bite.

“Um, here,” Leo said to Donnie. “You can have my other sausage. I don't really like them anyway.” With that, he removed another bit and sent it to the floor for Donnie to inhale.

“Leo, you don't gotta throw it at him,” Mikey said then. “It’s kinda rude.”

 _It doesn't bother him_ , Raph thought and managed to contain. A lot didn't seem to bother Donnie anymore, really… Raph blinked away the burning in his eyes.

“I know it's Donnie, but… I don't feel like he remembers enough to be gentle,” Leo said delicately. They watched as Donnie turned and gave a guttural trill, a much deeper variation than typical as he resumed his position.

“God, guys, lemme show you,” Mikey said, pulling off a pepperoni and detaching it from the tendrils of cheese. Donnie was over there and snuffling before Mikey even called. He offered it out between two fingers, and, to Raph's surprise, Donnie appropriately turned his head and accepted it with stunning sensitivity. He took it between his teeth and withdrew before snapping it up and grumbling in what had to be satisfaction.

“You know, if you keep indulging him, he'll never leave you alone,” April said suddenly. Amusement laced her voice.

“He'll have his own food next time,” Leo said. “He shouldn't have to beg.”

“Nothing's stopping him now,” Raph said. He hovered still by Mikey, his eyes narrowed and locked on Mikey's pizza.

“Yeah, well—HEY!”

Mikey's outburst jolted Raph's full attention over in time to see Donnie scampering off with Mikey's slice, his tail waving triumphantly behind him as he slipped into the dojo with his prize.

“Donnie!” Mikey huffed, crossing his arms momentarily. He twitched as though he considered chasing after Donnie, but after a moment he just sighed and bent over to retrieve the last slice of pizza. (“Leo, why'd you have to give him that idea?” he had griped.)

As they finished, Donnie still hadn't returned, and, when they went to check on him, he was curled around the tree, sleepily licking his paws and dragging them over his snout.

 

 

 

Donnie tottered down the dojo steps sometimes around noon. No one had moved much since Donnie had run off, and no one really gave the approaching turtle much attention until he whimpered.

“Aww, what's wrong?” Mikey asked. “You finally feeling guilty, you big thief?” His derisive face collapsed once he caught sight of Donnie's genuinely troubled expression. “Ohh, wait; what's wrong, D?”

Donnie's gaze flitted around the room almost desperately. Distressed whuffs tumbled out of his chest as he continued onward with a stumble and began furiously smelling everywhere.

“Uhh, what's he…?”

Donnie brought his head up at Leo's fading comment and barked at him, a hint of a distinguishable snarl edging it. He swung his head around a bit more, fidgeted on his paws, and then made for the turnstiles. He skidded to a halt at them and stuck his head out, flipping it both ways repeatedly.

“Casey,” Mikey said quietly, and instantly everyone understood.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Raph asked while they crept toward Donnie.

“Try to explain?” Mikey offered weakly.

“Try to reassure and distract him,” Leo said matter-of-factly.

They paused a few feet away as Donnie turned to face them. Grief and confusion glared in his eyes like headlights as he lowed, deep and mournful. His entire body wilted at once like the leaves outside, and the only part of him that was upward was his attention, regarding them with some indiscernible emotion. His lip trembled with whimpers that hadn't been given full life as Mikey crouched before him and wrapped his arms around his neck. “It's okay, dude,” he cooed. “Casey's just at school; he'll be back.”  Donnie moaned miserably, his dull gaze set on April still lingering by the couch.

“You're okay. Come over here with us, and maybe you'll get more _food,”_ Leo said, backing away a bit and reluctantly patting his thigh. Donnie licked his lips, like maybe he understood, but only pulled away and shook his head as if in disagreement. He turned toward the threshold, sat down, tipped his head, and began a piercing keen that made nearly everyone flinch.

“Hey, hey,” Raph said, moving forward to reach up and grab Donnie's neck; he jumped with a choked yelp and rocked them both. As Donnie swiveled his head to look down at Raph, the latter huffed, “God, you can't be doing that, howling like that and shit. You can't expect him to hear you.” Donnie mewled and lowered himself to the ground, staring forlornly into the tunnels. Raph muttered under his breath.

“Aww, D, you wanna wait for him? Here—I’ll wait too.” And, with that, Mikey closed the distance between them and sat carapace to Donnie's side. He ran his hand over Donnie's shoulder, and he stretched out a bit more with a little chitter.

“ _Mikey_ , we wanted to… oh, forget it.” And Leo joined Mikey and Donnie on the floor.

“You know that means sitting here for, like, four hours?” Raph asked, though he chose a spot next to Leo, near Donnie's end. Raph didn’t really have much of a choice.  

“He'll get bored or forget,” Leo said, shrugging over at April, who returned the action amicably, if not a bit painfully.

In the end, Donnie didn't move from the spot for all those hours.

 

 

 

Donnie shifted and put his head down with another sigh. His body ached for the comfort of at least one colorful ivy sheet under him to soften the bite of the cave floor. He’d never really expected to have had to wait so long—usually the male Abovewalker who carried billows of the scary world over Donnie’s head and so much more on his pelt arrived when the sun in that grungy sky was high over the grate. It was way past that now though, Donnie knew, and the mean female that always accompanied him had sat on _Donnie’s_ soft rock and now had stolen Rat, and the good Abovewalker he had decided to call Dark Fur wasn’t here with her. Donnie might’ve been a little snappy when he had just sat there and watched the female hurt him, but he hadn’t actually scared him away, had he? His chest was tight with his zeal to show the creature what he learned, and it put a real damper on everything when Donnie thought about the possibility that he _wouldn’t_ be coming. No, Dark Fur would come. He would come, and he would be so happy! His brothers had been really excited when he finally figured out the meaning of “Donnie,” that word that had eluded him for so long that ultimately ended up being his name—funny, for he probably should’ve remembered that. But whatever. He knew it now.

…Well, that would mean the others had names too, wouldn’t it? Donnie picked his head up and glanced at Whisperer thoughtfully. He’d have to listen out for the repeated utterances. He liked his names for them, but he liked “Donnie” a lot more than he liked any of the ones he made up, and they probably had cool names too!

Whisperer murmured what Donnie was beginning to suspect was a greeting and reached out. Donnie allowed him to scratch his chin; he even nuzzled him back for a second.  But quickly he whipped his head back straight—he heard the rustle of one of those weird white skins and the distinctive footsteps of an Abovewalker with their funny hooves; finally! He made it!

Donnie launched himself to his feet and bounded the short distance to the entrance. He almost prepared himself for a leap over the barriers before he paused. In the end, he set his paw down and began to pace the length of it. Whuffs rolled out of his chest unchecked.

_What had taken so long?_

_Had something happened?_

_He's not hurt, right?_ Donnie didn't smell blood.

 _Those skins…_ Usually, they had a prize inside, the very few times the Abovewalkers had them.

Donnie ceased the movement. Dark Fur had better brought Donnie something to make up for his absence. It was only fair.

“ _Donnie…”_  He brought his gaze from the entrance to his brothers at a (rather exasperated) calling of his name. They were all on the floor, toppled over. He snorted at them. They were all so strange and—oh, wait… Donnie blinked and sighed apologetically. They were clearly fine, only annoyed, so he got back to waiting. He felt his tail shaking as he shoved his head out, looking down one way, and then looking the other.

The Abovewalker had stopped, and he had his paws to his side and his head tipped, his expression what Donnie could consider to be thoughtful. He said what _had_ to be a greeting, a smile crossing his face. He stood there for a few seconds more before he pressed on. He did have a skin in his paw (except it was brown this time, which was weird), and it smelled faintly _delicious._ No matter the color; he did have a present for Donnie!

Donnie hadn't realized he'd gotten up on the barriers and started snuffling until Dark Fur needed to push him out of the way to enter. He murmured a half-minded apology and dropped down, all his attention on the noisy brown skin. The Abovewalker patted him a bit absently as he spoke with his brothers. Donnie took no interest in the talk as he usually did because _there was food in it._ His mouth watering, he butted it a few times and whimpered, trying to get his permission at least. Dark Fur broke off and beheld Donnie with chuckles, as inappropriate as it felt. He rumbled a question at him, tilting his head. _What's funny?_ The creature but smiled even more at him with that typical glint of a smirk he always flashed. It was hardly strong though, just a sliver, and clouds passed over it as Blue continued to speak. Dark Fur's focus returned to his brother as he rambled more and stole his attention, but, at least, he eventually gestured to the prize holder. He was asking worthwhile questions, finally.

Dark Fur lowered his paw into the brown skin and withdrew a small hunk of shredded meat sitting on a black strip and covered in a transparent film. He brandished it with one hand, almost dropped it, and then held it pretty closely afterward. Then they talked some more. Donnie groaned, bringing a hind leg up to gingerly scratch his neck. Would they ever be done? Even though that animal had already been touched by another predator, it looked very good.

As though his pleas had suddenly been answered, Mikey snatched the contained meat and made off for the Food Room with it. Donnie stood immediately and swept after him, uncontained whines bounding out of his chest as he shoved all that would fit of him into the Food Room. Swiftly he had to scrabble out to let the others in, but he didn't waste any time squeezing his shoulders right back.

Donnie watched with just as much intrigue as Whisperer extracted a dull… _thing_ and put it on the fire box. He played with it some, turning knobs, and then released the torn up animal. Donnie was so consumed by the meat that he hadn't realized Dark Fur came over. He put his pale brown and black paw on Donnie's carapace and just kept it there after he jumped. His dark eyes furtively met Donnie's, and they held it for a long moment before Donnie nervously dropped it. He liked Dark Fur a lot (he was pretty amusing, endearingly smirky, and really nice!), but sometimes he'd go into unnerving gloomy moods in which he'd just stare and lay a hand on him and act reserved. Anyway, Whisperer was putting the meat in the thing; that was a lot more fun. The sizzle and pops that'd scared him before were now satisfying and appetizing in a weird way.

Conversations Donnie knew little of quickly started back up again—quiet mostly, maybe a bit restrained. Donnie involuntarily lost interest, though he still kept an ear out while he licked at his healing shoulders. He didn't make much progress before he heard an enthusiastic “Hey!”, and he snappily set his head back to see whom they were greeting.

Whisperer had used the call. He was chuckling at that moment, but he did turn to Dark Fur—who had been here before. Had Whisperer really forgotten?—and began a rather one-sided exchange. Donnie squinted at Whisperer, though he was pretty sure Dark Fur was looking at him again. He didn't return it until he said the word. _Donnie_.

The sound that danced off of Dark Fur’s tongue melted Donnie in a way he'd never known before, as sappy as that sounded. (...Where did that thought come from?) The Abovewalker's face was alight with warmth and passion, curled in a striking beam in response to Donnie's surprised chirp. His paw slid up Donnie's neck to his head and scratched with his blunt claws; and he _purred,_ tilting his head into it.

Donnie was far content to have gotten a portion of the meat and affection for a long time before Rat beckoned them all away into the Tree Room.

 

 

 

“You want us to go out on _patrol?”_ Michelangelo asked incredulously, face distressed and pinched before he shot a glance at Donatello.

Splinter flitted his gaze over all his students and their uninvited friend, noting the unique variation of displeasure on their faces with inward sighs. “Misdeeds do not cease when personal tragedy strikes,” he said firmly. “Any mutagen-trafficking operations you failed to disband that night will still be active. Others are suffering for your negligence.” At the tumble of a few faces, he added, “Though, I cannot say I blame you all. This… tragedy has affected me just as much. However, if you wish to save others from Donatello's fate, I would advise you to resume your efforts.” Splinter suppressed a flinch as Donatello cooed right in his sensitive ear; his son had made the decision to situate himself behind him, and, evidently, he was still excited to have rediscovered his name. His breath was cold on his exposed flesh and even had a small wisp under all of Splinter’s fur.

They kept silent for a long couple of beats until Michelangelo again spoke. “Well, I guess, but… What about Donnie? He's not gonna like it.”

“I will accompany him. Donatello won't be alone,” Splinter said. Almost subconsciously his hand moved to give Donnie's chin a swift rub, and the resulting noise was much quieter but just as pleased. Splinter reluctantly stored the notion that Donnie enjoyed chin scratches.

“…You'll be good to him, wontcha?” his youngest asked almost suspiciously. “Y’know, D’s real different now. You can't just give him a toy and go meditate.”

“And he's more sensitive,” said Leonardo suddenly. “That would hurt him a lot.”

“And,” Raphael began, even more to Splinter's surprise, “he needs a lot of attention. He wouldn't let you meditate 'cause he'd be all over you.”

Affection for his sons burst into Splinter's chest in warm waves as he was subjected to their obvious concern for Donatello. A tender smile crept its way onto Splinter’s face, and he could've chuckled at them. “Yes, I am aware,” he said, the layer of his amusement unmistakable. “It was never in my intentions to leave Donatello alone.”

“Well, then,” Casey Jones said, tapping the hockey stick on which he had formerly been leaning on the mat-coated floor. His voice was deep as he said, “I dunno about you all, but I'm ready for revenge.” He bared his teeth in a snarl then, and Donatello’s uneasy breath whistled past Splinter's ear fur. Splinter glanced at him; in that instant, he knew Donatello was aware of something unfavorable encroaching.

“Actually, if we're doing this, which I guess we are, it's going to be to catching up with the Foot and reevaluating any old plans,” Leonardo said.

Casey banged his hockey stick against the floor in one relatively strong, swift arc, and it made a considerable thump despite everything. “You don't want to _at least_ break some bones for Don?” he asked, teeth bared in a different kind of gnarr as he faced Leonardo. Splinter hummed quietly and reassured Donatello with another chin rub.

He saw Leonardo's eyes momentarily move to Splinter before he spoke. “I'm not saying _that_ …” he said. “But, now, we should only fight if we need to; we are observing for now.”

“Anyway,” Michelangelo said before Casey could reply, “won't it be more fun to get revenge when we totally have an advantage?”

Casey's teeth ground and his jaw set, but he lacked a reply and exhaled harshly. April put a comforting hand on Casey's shoulder… and Splinter was caught off guard when a little growl rumbled out of Donatello's throat. He had suspected Donatello would be distrustful of April, but to that extent he hadn't anticipated. He had hoped his son would have been more rational. Splinter shook his head, increased his petting, and nodded approval at Leonardo.

Leonardo let loose a small smile before turning back to his team. “All right, guys, don't act like we're going anywhere. We don't wanna upset Donnie too soon,” he said, taking front. With all different levels of reluctance, they all followed. Donatello watched them for a few seconds before nuzzling into Splinter's cheek. Splinter humored him the best he could.

It was likely five minutes or so before Donatello got bored and wanted his brothers or Casey. He pulled away, gave a goodbye bunt, and moved to exit.

“No, Donnie,” he said kindly. “Come back.” He just hoped his son at most understood the first sentence.

He did halt and look back. But he just snorted at him after a second and quickly trotted to the exit quicker than Splinter could get up. He was greeted with an ear-splitting howl before he could make it to the threshold. A sigh slipped out of his snout. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he went out to Donatello.

He was pacing, his legs almost a white and green blur as he slunk around the lair, whining and snorting and keening. He kept returning to the turnstiles and lingering there for long beats before crying out and bounding away to another location. He did this multiple times before he fixed his gaze on Splinter. He didn't hesitate to run up and snatch his robe sleeve in his teeth and tug on it, letting out a mixture of growls and whimpers.

“Oh, my son, no… It's all right,” he murmured, gently teasing his robe free. “It's okay.” He stroked Donatello's head, carrying them far down his neck in an attempt to soothe him. He kept up the pitiful noises, and Splinter was almost at a loss until…

“Come, my son,” he said fondly, using his hands to encourage Donatello forward. It took a few minutes, but he, at last, convinced Donatello into the dojo and into staying there while Splinter fetched the spare blankets and pillows, the candles, and some of his favorite meditation tracks. He set up the space as he had been doing lately, covering the floor with the blankets and pillows. Donatello would have to relearn the dangers of fire, Splinter noted as he arranged the fragrant candles and lit them. He almost allowed Donnie to burn his nose, but, ultimately, he didn't have the heart to do that to his poor child, and, instead, he firmly stated and demonstrated that the candles were off-limits. And Donnie did stay away from them in favor of very _closely_ examining the radio while Splinter inserted the CD. He spooked when it started a clip of forest rain, but it melted away to fascination and then comfort very swiftly. Splinter gave him a pat before he dimmed the lights in the dojo. And, though light still pretty well poured in through the grate, it was that of an evening, and it was gentle and even added more to the atmosphere. Donnie already had curled up on the blankets, as close to the radio as possible, with his head sandwiched between two pillows. Splinter let free an unrestrained smile and a chuckle as he sat next to Donnie, stroking his nape.

To some extent, in the end, both had fallen asleep to the cool dusk light, the smell of lavender, and the sound of waves crashing against a shore.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
